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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24591349">no homo ft. dumbassery</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeaOotori/pseuds/LeaOotori'>LeaOotori</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Arthur and Merlin just spend a lot of time going "hot damn" and "no homo", Cottagecore, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossdressing, Episode: s02e09 Lady of the Lake, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hence the title, Leon and Lancelot are mom friends, Long-Suffering Leon, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Uther is alive but we have all our favorite crackheaded knights because the author says so, and they are seriously considering putting their kids up for adoption, but it goes in that direction?, horny bois, it's the canon's fault for planting this idea in my head, rated for ~sexy thoughts~ nothing explicit, the crossdressing is not meant to be sexual</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:34:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,532</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24591349</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeaOotori/pseuds/LeaOotori</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“There is no way in hell I’m dressing up as a woman,” Merlin huffed, crossing his arms stubbornly as his breath fogged up in the cold air. </p><p>“Come on, you have to!” Gwaine pleaded, pulling his best puppy eyes.</p><p>“Why? So that Arthur can call me a girl some more?”</p><p>The prince made a face. “First of all, calling you a girl has nothing to do with your feminine figure and <i>everything</i> to do with how you’re an absolute pansy!” Percival laughed, earning a threatening glare from Merlin. “Second of all, you’re not doing this for me, you’re doing this for the good of all of us.” </p><p>“Hear that, Merlin?” Gwaine piped up. “All of us. This is the future of Camelot we’re talking about! We’re going to catch our deaths out here if you don’t do it!”</p><p>“Gwaine,” Leon sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Please stop.”</p><p>Merlin grinned “<i>Thank</i> you Leon—"</p><p>“You’re not going to convince him by pressuring him or taunting him.” The red headed knight turned to Merlin, a pleading expression on his face. “We request this of you humbly, Merlin. Please dress up as a woman.” </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>245</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1110</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>merthur</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. the author wonders, "what the hell have I done"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/kkfma/gifts">kkfma</a>.</li>



    </ul><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>honestly I can't even believe I actually made it to posting this I'm lowkey ashamed that I have spent hours on this shit like,,, never in my life did I think I would end up writing gay crossdressing cottagecore because well,,, I've never been into ANY of those things (except of course the gay ahaha) but here I am </p><p>I do not take any responsibility for this, it is all the fault of the canon s02e09 Lady of the Lake when Merlin's waltzing around with that dress and Arthur says "What a man does in his spare time is completely up to him" (linked the clip below if you can't remember) and "the color suits you, Merlin" and every time I watch it I die a little (more like a lottle)</p><p>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DplsoUEMvIk</p><p>am I delirious? probably, i write all my fics at 1am and it seems impossible for me to write at any other time so I'm sleep deprived having only gotten four hours of sleep and I've watched the scene where Arthur asks if Merlin can walk on his knees at least ten times today but I've lost count </p><p>just want everyone to know i'm doing absolutely amazing rn and NOT losing my mind :D :D :D or maybe just a little idk man ok i'm going to stop rambling all of yall are probably gone by now, so if you're still here, I apologize for what you're about to read, it's not my fault</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“There is no way in <em> hell </em>I’m dressing up as a woman,” Merlin huffed, crossing his arms stubbornly as his breath fogged up in the cold air. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Come <em> on </em>, you have to!” Gwaine pleaded, pulling his best puppy eyes.</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Why? So that Arthur can call me a <em> girl </em>some more?”</p><p>
  
</p><p>The prince made a face. “First of all, calling you a girl has nothing to do with your feminine figure and <em> everything </em> to do with how you’re an <em> absolute </em> pansy!” Percival laughed, earning a threatening glare from Merlin. “Second of all, you’re not doing this for me, you’re doing this for the good of <em> all </em>of us.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Hear that, Merlin?” Gwaine piped up. “<em> All </em>of us. This is the future of Camelot we’re talking about! We’re going to catch our deaths out here if you don’t do it!”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Gwaine,” Leon sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Please stop.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Merlin grinned “<em> Thank </em>you Leon—"</p><p>
  
</p><p>“You’re not going to convince him by pressuring him or taunting him.” The red headed knight turned to Merlin, a pleading expression on his face. “We request this of you humbly, Merlin. Please dress up as a woman.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>Utterly shocked and looking rather betrayed, Merlin threw his hands up and turned on his heel, stomping off and leaving the knights behind. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Where’s he going?” Gwaine asked. “He better not be running off, or we’ll <em> all </em>be screwed over.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“He wouldn’t,” Percival said, sounding rather confident. “He couldn’t stay away from his darling prince all that long.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>It was Arthur’s turn to look betrayed, sputtering and trying to make some sensible sentence but being completely ignored by his oh-so-loyal knights. <em> Why do I put up with these traitors again?  </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Is there any other option?” Lancelot asked, always the peacemaker. “Merlin really doesn’t seem like he wants to do this. We shouldn’t force him.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“I didn’t think of this idea for fun, Lance,” Elyan sighed, shaking his head. “This is the first town we’ve come across in two days’ travel. There’s nothing we can do if they’re so wary of outsiders.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Leon nodded. “They barely blinked an eye when we said we had no place to stay or means to make camp.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“So you made up a woman to make us seem sympathetic?” Lancelot deadpanned. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Elyan gave a non-committal shrug. “It worked, didn’t it?” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Sure, if “worked” means that we have no woman with us to speak of and that Merlin has just run off on us.” Arthur sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, he could see Merlin’s point— the request was a <em> little </em>ridiculous.</p><p>
  <strong><br/>
<br/>
</strong>
</p><p>“It was the only way, sire,” Leon stressed. “We didn’t prepare for losing so many of our supplies. We were lucky to escape with our lives from that lot of bandits.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Gwaine groaned, teeth chattering. “This is a matter of life and death! I can’t live like this anymore.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“They said we could stay a night or two,” Elyan said, crossing his arms. “The offer is on the table.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“We’ll catch our deaths if we stay out here too long,” Leon sighed. “Frostbite, pneumonia, you name it.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur pursed his lips. <em> I’ve survived worse, </em> he thought. <em> I’ve never had to resort to such cowardly deception to survive against the odds before…. </em> But there was something different about this situation. The prince couldn’t put his finger on it, but it had <em> something </em> to do with Merlin in a dress. <em> This is a once in a lifetime blackmail opportunity! Of course I’m a little inclined to go along with it…  </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>The knights were looking at him expectantly, waiting for his decree. Silencing the warring thoughts in his head, Arthur gave into temptation.  “Well, there’s no way around it then.” Arthur sighed, as if it pained him to say the words (when he was quite frankly excited). “We <em>have</em> to make him do it.”</p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Merlin had been sulkily indulging in a pity party a little deeper into the forest, sitting up on a rough boulder and tracing patterns into the snow with an icy stick. His face was pale and blotchy on account of the cold, but his stubborn expression was as unyielding as ever as the knights and Arthur approached. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Merlin—”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“I don’t want to hear it,” the manservant declared, standing up and automatically shifting into a defensive stance, crossing his arms and jutting his chin out. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur had to try his best not to laugh, ultimately failing as he had to hide a chuckle behind his hand, earning a sharp glare from his servant (surely, that wasn’t allowed, but Arthur couldn’t bring himself to care). “Hear us out, Merlin,” Lancelot said, trying to sound soft and persuasive. Even Merlin, famously stubborn as a mule, couldn’t help but refrain from objecting. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Make it quick.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“We can’t survive out here for long,” Leon sighed, breath fogging up the air. “There’s barely any game, and no fire can keep us warm for long in this much snow. The past two days have been hell, haven’t they? We need real shelter.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Merlin didn’t say anything, so Elyan took that as a go-ahead. “The townsfolk didn’t care about our plight until we mentioned we had a woman with us,” he added. “We need this facade to survive tonight.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Arthur’s life hangs in the balance,” Gwaine said, a sparkle in his eye. “Don’t forget that.” He earned a harsh slap on the arm from Leon, to which the brunet just grinned, seemingly egged on. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Why do <em> I </em>have to be the woman?” Merlin asked. “Why not Gwaine? He already has the luscious locks down to a science.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Hey,” the knight scoffed, sounding offended. “These are <em> manly </em>luscious locks, thank you very much.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Percival sighed, “but I think you’re the only one who could pull it off.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Merlin looked scandalized. “Ex<em> cuse </em> me—"</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Merlin,” Arthur sighed, finally joining the fray. “He’s right. And unlike usual, this isn’t a jab. You don’t have a beard, for one.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Well, <em> sire </em>, you don’t have a beard either.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“You have a rather slender figure,” Gwaine added, waggling his eyebrows. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Merlin’s eyes narrowed. “Gwaine, do <em> not </em>think for a moment that I won’t kill you in your sleep. I am perfectly capable of that, and you are well aware.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>Lancelot sighed. “Merlin, <em> please </em>. Don’t mind Gwaine’s regular depravity. You know the situation is dire. We wouldn’t ask this of you otherwise.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Well, it doesn’t even matter if I agree,” Merlin said. “I can’t very well show up like this and claim to be a woman.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Oh, don’t worry, we have that covered,” Elyan said, reaching into his pack. “We traded a bedroll for a set of clothes.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Merlin watched in silence as the cloth in Elyan’s hands fell unfolded, revealing itself to be a dark blue dress with tan laces up the front, a cinched waist, and a layered winter skirt. “No,” he breathed, the word coming out like a curse. “Oh, gods, no.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur stared at the dress openly, the fingers that had been fidgeting with the hilt of his sword stilling as he took in the overtly feminine shape of the cloth. His mind unwillingly flashed back to the night months ago when he had caught Merlin wandering about with a silk dress in the dead of night. It was something he should have forgotten, but it was a memory burned into the back of his mind, emerging often at witching hour or in dreams. The image of Merlin in a slimming corset, sleeves wrapping tight around slender arms, skirt swishing around hips— <em> oh, good lord, forgive me for my sins.  </em> Arthur wasn’t about to pretend that the… <em> fantasy </em> hadn’t plagued him in his weakest moments, but it was just a strange sexual urge that he had from being so pent-up, that’s all. He didn’t get to expend his <em> frustrations </em> with all his responsibilities. His knights and all his other noble friends had the freedom of sleeping around with whoever they liked without consequences, but as the crown prince, keeping the bloodline clean and maintaining a positive public image were too important to Arthur for him to be promiscuous. And it wasn’t<em> that</em> strange to jerk off to your closest friend once right? Once or twice? (Or a couple  of times?) <em> Completely understandable with how little I get laid.  </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“I not wearing that,” Merlin said firmly, snapping Arthur out of his internal debate. “Absolutely not.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur tore his eyes from the dress to Merlin, eyes subconsciously tracing the lines of Merlin’s body where they were hidden under his baggy clothes. <em> That dress would look…  </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Merlin, please—”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“All of you will never let me live it down!” The servant argued. “I’ll be a laughingstock!” </p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur’s resolve hardened. “Merlin,” he said, command and sternness evident in his voice. “You’re wearing that dress.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>The brunet gaped at him. “Are you <em> ordering </em>me?”</p><p>
  
</p><p>The blonde pursed his lips. <em> Surely, I shouldn’t be that cruel for my own depravity? </em> “No,” he said finally. “It’s an ardent request on behalf of the health and well-being of the good of you and my men.” <em> Ooh, being all eloquent to satisfy my kinks, am I? </em>“I give you my word that we won’t mention this to anyone else or hold this over you. In fact, we’ll all promise to never speak of it again.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>Merlin pursed his lips. “You can do better than that.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur raised an eyebrow, a smirk flickering across his face. <em> Ah, playing his game, are we? </em>“Fine,” he said. “You can have two days off when we get back home.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Two days?! Make that two weeks.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Oh, I didn’t know you did comedy, Merlin,” Arthur laughed. “A week, maximum.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“A week <em> and </em>you buy me a new set of clothes,” an impish grin grew on Merlin’s face, and for a moment, Arthur forgot that there were other living souls with them. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Done,” Arthur said, barely catching his breath in time to agree. “A week and a set of clothes.” He gestured to Elyan, who was grinning widely, dress still dangling from his fingers. “Go put it on, Merlin.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“I never thought this day would come,” Gwaine said, almost sounding choked up.</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Say another word and I won’t do it,” Merlin grumbled, enjoying his new leverage already. He took the dress, eyeing it distrustfully, as if expecting that it would bite him. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Just go,” Arthur said, trying to keep the strange, unholy thoughts drifting through his mind from being apparent in his tone. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Merlin wrinkles his nose mockingly. “Whatever you say, <em> sire </em>.” </p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It had been several minutes since Merlin had shooed the knights and Arthur away, refusing to put on the dress while they were in the vicinity. “What’s taking him so long?” Percival shivered, sitting back against a tree trunk. His armless chain mail was doing him any favors, even when he was wrapped up in his winter cloak ("That's what you get for trying to show off your barrel-arms all the time," Gwaine had said).</p><p>
  
</p><p>“It shouldn’t take him much longer,” Leon replied, pacing about. “Women take a good while to dress, so it makes sense.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Maybe one of us should go help him,” Gwaine laughed, making a serious move to get up before he was pushed back down by Elyan.</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Don’t get up if you aren’t planning to die out here in the cold,” he warned his fellow knight. “As long as he’s doing this for us, you need a filter on the things you say.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“I don’t think we’ll ever be blessed with such a gift,” Percival said, to which Gwaine looked rather offended. </p><p>
  
</p><p>As the knights continued to squabble, Lancelot made his way over to his prince, a quiet and calm presence as he always was. “Are you alright, sire?”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur blinked at suddenly being addressed, swallowing and trying to wet his dry throat. “Of course. Completely alright. Utterly perfect. Why do you ask?”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Lancelot’s eyes fluttered across Arthur’s face for a moment, as if he could read his very mind. <em> If he could see what I was thinking, he would most definitely not approve. </em>“You’ve just been acting a little off since Elyan and Leon returned from the town.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“It’s just exhaustion,” Arthur said with a vague shrug. “Don’t worry about me, it’ll pass.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“If you say so,” the knight conceded, warm eyes still searching for the truth as he gave a shallow nod before retreating to join the other knights. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur watched him walk away, feeling so far away in his own world despite being only a few paces from his men. <em> What am I doing? </em> Had he really just coerced Merlin into cross-dressing to fulfill a fantasy that had manifested since a chance encounter months ago? Had he really fallen this far in his life? <em> If father saw me now, he might disown me for real. He would probably think a troll was a truly better fit to be ruler.  </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“I’m fooled.” Percival’s declaration echoed from across the clearing, making Arthur’s eyes snap up. </p><p>
  
</p><p>He saw Merlin come out from behind a particularly large tree, tuning out Gwaine’s salacious comments and Leon’s polite compliments as his eyes honed in on the sight he had only seen in the darkest corners of his imagination. </p><p>
  
</p><p>The dress, even though it was clearly made for a peasant, made Merlin look <em> scandalously </em> ravishing. <em> That can’t be allowed, </em> Arthur mused absent-mindedly. <em> How is this legal? </em> The dress exposed the slender collarbones and shoulders that Merlin usually hid under layers, making his neck look regal and elegant. The dress cinched at his waist, aided by his belt, highlighting the dip of his frame before the dress flared out into two layers of skirts. <em>That skirt would look sinful bunched up around his hips... </em>Arthur tried his best to ignore the gnawing urge for his eyes to continue further down. Instead, he drew his gaze back up to Merlin’s face. He was biting the inside of his lip, Arthur could tell, embarrassment coloring his face a bright pink. It was strangely endearing. <em> Arthur. Pendragon. What in heaven’s name are you doing?  </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Stop staring at me,” Merlin mumbled, ducking his head. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Oh, don’t hide your face, love—”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“One more word out of you, Gwaine, and you will be dead where you stand.” Merlin stared at the knight resolutely, eyes communicating the severity of his threat. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Well,” Elyan started, clearing his throat. “We might as well begin making our way back to town.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Wait,” Leon said, furrowing his brow. “What do we do about his hair?”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Merlin reaches up to touch his cropped brown locks. The dress may have fit, but the hair wasn’t as easy to pass off. Lancelot took a step closer, taking Merlin’s clothes from his arms, pulling his neckerchief from the pile. “Is this an option?”</p><p>
  
</p><p>While he looked like he wanted to say something (probably quite scathing), Merlin simply gave a stiff nod. “Those clothes I’m getting better be fit for royalty.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur watched as Lancelot reached over to tie Merlin’s scarf over his head, covering his hair. His bangs still fell over his forehead, making him look more like a village girl than was truly fair. He could just imagine it: running away to a small farm, with rolling fields of… corn or something. A few goats and horses, a cottage with a warm fireplace-- Merlin would have to do all the heavy work, of course, but… <em> if he was in that dress, I would do it all for him.  </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Sire?” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“What?” Arthur said sharply, jumping a little. “What is it?”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Elyan raised a suspicious eyebrow. “We were waiting for you to give the final word.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>The prince blinked, trying to remember what had been happening before he had… gone down the rabbit hole. “He-- Merlin-- the dress looks fine-- passable, I mean. Always knew you were a girl, deep down.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Percival snorted. “Sire, we meant about journeying back to town. Not the final verdict on Merlin’s womanly wiles.” </p><p>
  
</p><p><em> Oh, for fuck’s sake. </em>“I knew that,” Arthur said, sounding rather defensive. “It just needed to be said.” He ignored Merlin’s glare, choosing instead to stare into the snow-covered distance. “Well, then, I suppose it’s time to head to the town.” </p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The ride to town was mostly silent, save for the sound of the horses’ hooves on the blanket of snow coating everything in sight. Merlin was up at the front of the group with Arthur like usual, trying hard not to pretend that he couldn’t feel the knights’ eyes drifting to him and staring at him from behind. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Here we are,” Elyan said after a while, pointing out the snow-covered roofs of cottages just behind another snowbank. “That’s the town.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>Leon rode out in front of Arthur with Elyan, leading the group onto a path that was barely detectable with the thick layers of ice covering it. Arthur dismounted first, the knights following suit as they prepared to enter the town. Merlin, forgetting his situation for a moment, moved to do the same, but the dress caught on his saddle, throwing him entirely off balance. “Woah there,” Gwaine said, appearing from seemingly nowhere, supporting with one hand Merlin and keeping him from a terrible spill. “Don’t fall for me yet.” <em> I wish I’d just fallen off the horse.  </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Gwaine,” Merlin sighed, frustration already building. “Don’t you start.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>The knight simply smiled cryptically, moving away once he was sure Merlin was stable and instead offering him a hand. The servant took it begrudgingly, this time making sure the cursed dress wasn’t caught on anything before hopping down. “Thanks,” he mumbled, taking care that it was barely audible. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Any time, <em> my lady </em>.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Gwaine, I swear to the gods--” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“<em> Shh </em>!” Elyan hissed, driving an elbow into Gwaine’s side abruptly. “Don’t blow it!” </p><p>
  
</p><p>Two men were presently making their way up the path, ruddy faces bundled up in thick scarves and sporting suspecting glances. The older of the two reached them first on account of his wide strides, hand wrapped around a thick staff that poked holes through the blanket of snow underfoot. “So you’re the folks they’ve been talking about.” His voice was gruff and clipped. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur dipped his head. “We thank you for the good-heartedness that you have shown us.” His words were ever so diplomatic. <em> He just makes me write his speeches for him because he’s lazy, </em>Merlin thought with a huff. “We have money in return for your troubles.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“If we wanted it, we would’ve asked for it,” the man said, face still stoic. “We just don’t want any trouble.” He eyed the group up and down, turning to give his companion an indecipherable look. “You aren’t men of a crown, are you?” </p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur bristled. “No, of course not,” Leon cut in, smiling his most noble smile. “We told you, good sir. Just simply traders.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>The man’s companion squinted, eyes zeroing in on Merlin. The warlock could feel the blood rushing to his face. <em> Stop looking at me. </em> “Traders, eh?” The second man said, eyes flitting between each of them and landing on Merlin again. “What’s a woman doing travelling alone with you lot?”  Merlin froze, fingers curled tight in the godforsaken dress. <em> If they find out after I threw away my pride to do this… </em> Around him, the knights were standing dangerously still, at a loss for words. A long, painful moment passed. <em>Goddamnit, what do we do? </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Oh, she’s... my wife.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>There was another long pause. Merlin’s breath caught in his throat. <em> What the hell? </em> His eyes were glued to the man who had made up the impromptu lie-- Crown Prince Arthur <em> fucking </em>Pendragon himself. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Your wife?” The older man said, the words slow and deliberate. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Yes,” Arthur said, a jaw in his muscle flexing. “She’s my wife.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>There was another long moment of silence. <em> Don’t tell me I did this all for nothing, </em> one part of Merlin pleaded, while the other part was in a state of hyperventilation as he tried to process the lie Arthur had told. <em> Arthur’s wife, </em> he repeated to himself. <em> He said I’m his goddamn wife.  </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>The older villager’s face broke out into a thin smile as he stepped forward to slap a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “I can’t fault someone for loving their wife too much,” he said, a chuckle lacing his tone. “Couldn’t even leave her behind for a trade, could you?” </p><p>
  
</p><p>Beside him, the other villager laughed, a faint smile appearing on his face as well. “He’s young and in love, can you blame him, Damien?” </p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur gaped. “Look at him, John, he’s blushing,” Damien said, shaking his head. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Not as much as his pretty little wife,” John replied with an amused glance. “Come on, let’s get you into town before nightfall.” The two men lead the group towards the town, sensing nothing out of the ordinary despite the fact that both Arthur and his “wife” were beet red even in the freezing wind and snow. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Meanwhile, the knights were displaying varying degrees of surprise and amusement. Gwaine and Percival were busy shooting knowing glances at each other like old gossips while Lancelot looked like he was trying his hardest not to burst out laughing. Elyan just looked plain bewildered, as if expecting to wake up from a fever dream any second. Poor Leon, however, seemed to be the most stressed of them all, with his eye twitching rapidly as he fought to control himself amidst all the stupidity he was constantly surrounded by. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur, leading the group right on the heels of the village men, refused to look back, leaving his facial expression up to imagination. But that wasn’t enough to deter Merlin-- having known him for years, the warlock could read the tense line of his shoulders and the embarrassed stiffness of his gait. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Merlin,” Gwaine shuffled forward, a grin falling across his lips in a rather cat-like expression. “Why don’t you go stand up there with your <em> husband?”  </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Shut up,” Merlin said, narrowing his eyes and trying to appear as intimidating as possible while wearing a flowy dress. Unfortunately, he was too flustered to even think of a scathing insult or threat to throw at his (now former) friend, so he just settled on prolonging his glare and turning away. </p><p>
  
</p><p>The distance between the villagers and the Camelot patrol grew longer as they hiked down the path that led them into the village, which gave the knights the opportunity to whisper among themselves. “I had no choice,” Arthur said immediately, not even waiting for anyone to confront him about what he’d said. “It was necessary.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Sure,” Gwaine snickered, elbowing Percival. “I’m sure that’s it, <em> sire. </em>” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Gwaine,” Lancelot sighed, shaking his head. “It was a sensible decision, Arthur,” he said, attempting reassurance. “Very believable.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?” Merlin hissed, taking the comment as a jab at his masculinity instead of an observation of the nature of Arthur and Merlin’s relationship. “I had Arthur’s <em> word-- </em>”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“For <em> once </em>Merlin, just be quiet!” Arthur grit out, throwing a cautionary glance at the villagers walking ahead obliviously. “If they hear your voice, we’re gonna be chased out of here.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“I have a lot of experience in being chased out of places,” Gwaine said with a particularly salacious smile. “Any questions, comments, or concerns can be brought to me.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur stared at him for a moment, looking remarkably like he was wondering whether or not to revoke Gwaine’s knighthood, before he seemed to decide it wouldn’t be worth the fallout. “Nevermind that,” he sighed, turning to Merlin. “We have to make this believable. Walk with me and keep your mouth shut. I know that’s hard for you, but you’re going to have to.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>Merlin opened his mouth to retort, but Arthur just glared and mouthed, <em> “One week.” </em>Merlin wrinkled his nose and raised two fingers, making deliberate and nearly aggressive eye contact. Arthur rolled his eyes in response, muttering an affectionately annoyed “Fine,” under his breath. Satisfied with his small victory, Merlin picked up his pace to walk beside Arthur, trying to bury the strange feelings stirring in his chest at the situation. </p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><em> I can’t believe him, </em> Arthur thought, trying to glue his eyes on the backs of their guides so that he wouldn’t look at Merlin. <em> Two weeks! Seriously… </em> it was far too much. <em> I can’t tolerate George for two whole weeks. </em>But that was a problem for much, much later. Right now, he was far more concerned with other things. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur tried to wrack his head, searching for problems to distract himself with. Like… the fact that they were in an enemy kingdom, or that they had more men than horses, or that they were still four days’ ride away from the borders of Camelot. Or perhaps that they were lying about their identities to seek refuge in a recluse village. <em> Or that fact that Merlin was in a fucking dress. </em> The last thought had taken root in his brain, refusing to let him concentrate on anything else.  In his peripheral vision, Arthur could see Merlin walking beside him, the dress’s color a perfect compliment to his pale complexion. Cursing himself, he tried to look in front of him instead, but the snow served as a grand white canvas for the images conjured up in the most depraved recesses of his brain. <em> I need to stop.  </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Here we are,” John said as they entered the outskirts of the village. It couldn’t have been more than 50 or so cottages, all decrepit and leaning on each other for support. “You’re going to need to earn your night’s stay,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “We can’t do much charity out here. Times are too tight.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>Damien turned and looked them up and down. “I supposed that gathering wood and helping with repairs won’t be a problem for any of you?” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Certainly not,” Arthur said, straightening himself out. “But…” <em> I need to get away from Merlin. </em>“Surely there’s other work for a woman.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>John’s eyes drifted to Arthur’s “wife”. “There’s always cooking and cleaning and washing and domestic chores of that sort to be done.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur’s face broke out into a relieved smile. “She’s definitely cut out for that,” he said, risking a glance at his servant. “Not the best, but acceptable.” Merlin glared heatedly. “She doesn’t talk much though. A shy little thing, really.” <em> Oh, this is too much fun.  </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“That’ll do just fine,” John shrugged. “Come, I’ll take you out to the backwoods. The knights started up after him, stepping past Merlin who watched them leave with dark, murderous eyes. Arthur turned and looked over his shoulder, grinning cheekily and looking at though he was having <em> far </em>too much fun in the situation. </p><p>
  
</p><p><em> I’m going to make him a splendid rat stew when we get back, </em>Merlin thought to himself as he got led away in the opposite direction, which made him feel just a teensy bit better. </p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“My, you don’t look it, but your stitches are beautiful.” Milly, a hefty woman of forty and some odd years declared loudly, standing over Merlin’s shoulder. He was working fine, strong stitches into a winter tunic with obvious expertise— after all, Arthur was all but a child when it came to keeping his clothes intact. If he didn’t know how to mend by now, the Crown Prince of Camelot would have had the whole of the kingdom walking around naked on account of fabric shortage. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Ooh, she’s good,” Dorothy, John’s wife said, looking over from where she was busy mending a hole in a sack used for collecting harvest. “I’ve never seen a stitch like that. Looks solid.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Merlin smiled, finding that quiet, demure expressions got him out of responses most of the time. Indeed, Milly, hands on her hips, took the opportunity to cut in, speaking at length about the grain stores they had left and days until spring. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Finding some peace in the mechanical working of his fingers, Merlin tuned out the chattering of the women, instead industrially attacking the large rip in the tunic, getting nearly halfway through it before he was interrupted again. “Say, girl, you are quite a little looker,” Milly said, chuckling. “It’s no mystery why your husband is so sweet on you.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“He’s head over heels,” Dorothy laughed, getting up to lay the sack she had just finished near the door. She turned to Merlin, a wry smile gracing her face. “Really, you’re frankly adorable.” Merlin flushed red— what triggered it, he wasn’t sure. “So shy!” Dorothy chuckled, patting his cheek with motherly amusement. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Doesn’t he get protective of you at all?” Milly wondered out loud. “Especially with the lot of handsome fellows he always has around?”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Merlin simply shook his head. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Oh, don’t fill her head with things like that,” Dorothy sighed, walking over to fetch a pot that needed a thorough cleaning. “Her husband is practically Adonis, and you’re talking about the others.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Don’t tell me you haven’t seen the one with long brown hair,” Milly said, voice carrying a tone of suggestiveness. “He looks quite the romantic.” </p><p>
  
</p><p><em> Oh dear lord, </em> Merlin groaned internally. <em> She better not be talking about Gwaine.  </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“I suppose,” Dorothy replied noncommittally. “But what about the redhead? With the cheekbones and the strong jaw, he seems to be quite the dashing rogue.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em> There’s no way she means Leon. Him, a rogue? Is there another redhead I don't know about?  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Don’t you go tattling on us,” Milly said, looking over her shoulder and fixing Merlin with a wide smile. “All in good fun.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>He replied with a simple smile and a nod, with which the women seemed satisfied before going back about their gossip, overly excited on account of the minimal amount of new arrivals and visitors they got in such a hermit village. As he finished the stitching the tunic, he did his best to tune out Dorothy and Molly’s detailed analyses of each of the knights and the “way their muscles flexed” when they were helping mend a sheep pen down the street. <em> Gods above, I want to die.  </em></p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The evening set in with startling speed. Merlin had gotten so lost in his perpetual silence and the familiarity of domestic chores in a cottage that reminded him so much of his childhood home that he barely noticed the time until Milly grabbed a pot he was cleaning from him, lips screwed up in a strange expression he couldn’t really decipher. He looked at her searchingly, wondering what was wrong. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“A real worker bee, aren't you?” </p><p>
  
</p><p>Merlin just shrugged, taking the words as praise. It was more than he’d usually get from Arthur, or anyone in Camelot, for that matter. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Dorothy came over, laying a hand on Merlin’s shoulder lightly. “You must be exhausted, especially with the night you spent out in the woods. You’ve more than earned your keep. John said your husband and some of his men went out hunting, let’s go see if they brought anything back.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“I doubt it,” Milly said with a sigh. “Nobody can seem to catch much of anything these days. We’re running out of grain stores.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“We’ll make it,” Dorothy said with a firm smile, the same thin one Merlin recognized from many a childhood winter. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Merlin tried, but he could not stop a nostalgic smile from spreading across his face. <em> How long has it been since I encountered this kind of of simplicity? </em> Until this moment, he’d never realized just how much he missed Ealdor and the village sensibilities of the people there. All this time, worrying about the end of the world (the end of <em> his </em>world), he’d forgot about the every day troubles of life that had once consumed him. </p><p>
  
</p><p>He let his fingers curl into his unfamiliar skirts as the two women led him outside, seemingly amused by his perceived shyness. Merlin wasn’t sure what made him drag his feet, especially when he could see flashes of the knights through the gaps of the cottage’s shutters. He should want to be with his friends, but there was a permeating awkwardness and shame he wasn’t ready to handle. </p><p>
  
</p><p>He didn’t have a choice though, so once again, he swallowed his pride and walked out, ducking his head down. There were a few other villagers gathered around the knights, a sea of rugged men, but it still took less than an instant for Merlin’s eyes to be drawn magnetically to Arthur’s broad shoulders. </p><p>
  
</p><p>He was like the sun, shining bright and strong even when the world tried to eclipse him. Somehow, even when out of his element and hiding behind a fake identity, Arthur carried the weight of the absent crown on his head, a future king through and through. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Watching him speak with the villagers and smile his winning smile made something bubble up in Merlin’s chest. The feeling was familiar, something that often found its way to the surface whenever Arthur was around, but the warlock had yet to put a name to it. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“You can cook, right, Merlin?” Dorothy asked from his side. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Merlin nodded, but then realizing that Dorothy wasn’t looking at him, risked speaking. He settled with a simple “yes,” which, with the blessing of a tone of a whisper, didn’t give him away as a man immediately. He kept watching her, confused upon seeing the excited smile on the older woman’s face. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“That’s good,” she said finally, turning to Merlin. “Your husband’s a sharp one, girl. That’s the first game caught in weeks.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“I haven’t had fresh meat in forever,” Milly said, hands on her hips. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Merlin could feel his stomach protesting— after all, he hadn’t eaten anything substantial for at least a day now, and even that had been relatively minimal. Winter in the forest was unfairly harsh. Feeling a little less afraid of outing himself, he spoke again. “I… know a recipe.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Milly grinned. “Can’t wait.”</p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It wasn’t long before the scent of stew was drifting away from the fire they were cooking at, attracting villagers from all down the street. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Merlin had perfected this particular rabbit stew with the incentive of danger from royal projectiles that often came hurtling his way when Arthur was hungry. And of course, it helped that the stew itself had become a bargaining chip that the knights were eager to take when exchanging favors. It was relatively simple, using minimal ingredients and feeding a whole host of people. Stew really was godsend. </p><p>
  
</p><p>There was a large fire pit on the street between John and Damien’s houses, with two or three other village families gathering as the sun began to set. Merlin stirred the pot above the flames, secretly delighting in the way the knights sat, looking barely restrained and ready to inhale the food as soon as they got the go-ahead. Taking pity on them and their obvious desperation, he took out the bowls Dorothy had offered him and began serving. </p><p>
  
</p><p>The villagers rejoiced at this sudden feast, especially when Merlin contributed the gifts of salt and pepper that they had managed to keep even amidst the bandit attacks. Two pretty village girls from down the street to help Merlin, filling bowls with stew and giving them to the waiting people gathered round. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Something about the situation made Merlin feel all warm inside. </p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Arthur sat perched on a large log near the fire, watching as Merlin worked. <em> If only he was this competent back home. </em>Subconsciously, he traced the dramatic dip of his manservant’s back in that godsend of a dress, completely drowning out whatever John had been talking about. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“A little distracted, eh?” Gwaine chuckled, jostling Percival next to him. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Can you blame him?” Elyan asked, “How could he ever keep his eyes off of that darling bride of his?” Apparently he was the newest inductee to the Traitorous Knights of Camelot. <em> Perhaps they should be the Traitorous Trio now. </em>The idea was a good one, so Arthur would definitely take it to his grave, just in case it inspired the heathens too much. </p><p>
  
</p><p>John just laughed, following his gaze and looking at Merlin. “I understand. I mean, look at her.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur wasn’t going to sit there and deny that Merlin dressed up as a woman hadn't been a shameful fantasy of his, but he had an image to protect. With the way this was going, he would end up being ridiculed for this whole incident more than Merlin. So naturally, he did the thing that came most easily to him— he repressed. “Oh, yes,” he said, turning to his knights with a wide, threatening smile “She does make the most <em> wonderful </em> girl, doesn’t she?” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Completely smitten,” Gwaine muttered under his breath. Leon, sitting on the log next to Lancelot, looked as though he was about to implode. Lancelot lay a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, having come to terms with his fate as a sane man amidst chaotic bastards years ago. </p><p>
  
</p><p>It was at the moment, when Arthur was wondering if throttling Gwaine would be detrimental to their fragile shelter situation, that Merlin came over, brandishing bowls of stew. And <em> goddamnit </em>everything about him was unfair. The smell of the mouth-watering stew emanating off of him, the way the skirt swished around his legs as if he had been wearing dresses for years, the way he glowed with the fire behind him— </p><p>
  
</p><p>The villagers, blissfully unaware of the homoerotic tensions bubbling in the air between their guests, went on in their conversations, worries temporarily relieved with a good meal. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur looked away, desperately trying to squash down the rising emotions in his chest. Ones that he didn’t name, <em> couldn’t </em>name. In a desperate attempt to distract himself, he reached for the bowl in Merlin’s right hand, only to find that his servant pulled it out of his reach. Arthur looked at him, brow furrowed and questioning. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Don’t pout,” Merlin said, voice a quiet whisper in an obvious attempt to make the masculine undertone less apparent. “I haven’t wronged you.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“I just want my stew, Merlin.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“And you’ll have it,” he said in a clipped tone, handing the bowls in his hands to Gwaine and Percival. “Just wait. I need to pick out the carrots.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>He walked away again, before Arthur could get a word in edgewise. In his defense, nobody’s hips should be allowed to move like that. “The carrots?” John asked, looking over at Arthur. “What’s wrong with them?”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Nothing,” Lancelot volunteered, a faint smile on his face. “Arthur is just very particular.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Who doesn’t like carrots, anyways?” Gwaine asked, shaking his head.</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Truly a pity,” Percival said, deliberately fishing a carrot out of the stew and popping it in his mouth. “More of the rest of us, I suppose.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Merlin came back moments later, with a carrot-free bowl for Arthur. Long after the first villagers to eat had already finished, the brunet was still busily buzzing around, delivering bowls and scrubbing and stirring. The sky was so dark that it seemed to reflect the dwindling flames of the fire, many of the villages beginning to retire to bed as the stars made their home in the sky. Merlin came over again, this time on a round to pick up bowls of those who had eaten. The knights made a stack of the bowls from the neighboring logs, which Merlin accepted with a grateful smile. Wordlessly, he made his way over to Arthur, kneeling at his feet and beginning to unlace his boots. </p><p>
  
</p><p>The knights barely noticed, used to the routine, but the villagers watched with renewed interest as he pulled the boots off of Arthur’s feet, taking off towards the fire with the bowls hoisted on one hip and boots dangling from the other hand. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“What was that?” Damien asked, watching quizzically. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur blinked. “Oh,” he said dumbly, wondering if the truth sounded too aristocratic. “She’s drying my boots.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“They seemed pretty dry to me,” John said. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“They are,” Arthur shrugged. “The… er… last time that we got snowed on, I caught a dreadful cold and Merlin’s convinced it’s because there was snow in my boots.” The villagers didn’t nod or say anything, so he took that as a sign to keep talking, watching his pronouns carefully. “Since then, she’s been obsessive over drying them in the cold. She won’t listen to me no matter what I say.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>There was a silence, but Arthur was no longer sure what he could explain. He looked over to the knights, expecting some guidance, but even his trusty commoner knights had nothing to contribute, all of them demonstrating varying sorts of uselessness. Leon, now with his head in his hands, was busy being consoled by an exasperated Lancelot (though what the two of them were distressed over, Arthur couldn’t say). Gwaine and Elyan and Percival seemed to be on the opposite side of the spectrum, muttering in nearly silent whispers under their breath as Gwaine pretended to swoon. <em> I hate them.  </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“You’re a very lucky man,” John said finally, breaking Arthur’s attentions was from his men. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Pardon?”</p><p>
  
</p><p>John turned to look at him face on as he rose to his full height. “You’re a lucky man.” He repeated, eyes dark and serious. “She really loves you.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur froze. “Of course she does,” he said finally, forcing a smile on his face. “She’s my wife, after all.” Somehow, adding that word felt like he was patching it all up. <em> Wife </em>. A neat little word, a neat little bandage that could fix the tipping scales on Arthur’s gossamer state of mind. All he had to do was immerse himself in the charade and he could pretend that he never felt anything and that everything was entirely normal. </p><p>
  
</p><p>John smiled sadly, as if contemplating what such a stupid man had done to acquire such love. “You’ll find one day that there aren’t many who love with that kind of devotion.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>With that, he left. </p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Arthur walked up to Merlin in the dwindling light from the fire. The other knights had been whisked off by respective villagers that they had spent the afternoon helping, given a bed for the night. Damien has offered to let Arthur and Merlin sleep in his cottage and Arthur had accepted.</p><p>
  
</p><p>With the onset of night, Merlin and Arthur were the only people still outside, Merlin standing on the outskirts of the ash blowing out in circles from the base of the fire pit. Arthur walked up behind him, and for the first time that day, his eyes didn’t immediately trace Merlin’s waist or the lines in his slender arms. Instead, he watched the comfortable lilt of his manservant’s shoulders, looking as though a weight had been temporarily lifted off of them. He stepped up next to him, watching as Merlin stared into the fire, eyes glittering gold reflections of the flames. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur was struck by how perfectly gold suited him, the way it made his cheekbones glow like they were sharp mountain ranges, haloed by dawn. Any time he caught Merlin doing magic, Arthur was quick to try to catch a glimpse of those eyes. The color was fleeting, so ethereal that the blonde could never be totally sure if it had ever been there. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Yet, in all the years he had suspected and in all the years he had definitively known, he had never mustered the nerve to finally confess to Merlin. To confess that he knew, confess that he wanted to see those eyes alight and dance for him. <em>Just out of curiosity and fascination, of course. That's all. </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur thought back to John’s words, turning them over in his mind and remembering every single time that Merlin had put Arthur first. Every time that he had given up the credit and reward to remain by Arthur’s side. Every time that he risked his life just to give Arthur the tiniest bit of peace. Merlin looked over at him, something unreadable and sad and infinite in his eyes. “You’re quiet,” he said, voice still a whisper. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“So are you,” Arthur replied, the familiar teasing smile that he reserved especially for his manservant flitting across his face. “And I didn’t even think that was possible.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“I’ll make sure to talk your ear off on the way home,” Merlin said, fiddling with a loose thread on his sleeve. <em> Home, </em> Arthur thought idly. <em> He makes it sound like </em> <b> <em>our </em> </b> <em> home.  </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>He waited for another long moment, reveling in the cold night air. “We should get to bed,” he said finally “it’s cold out here.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“I’m exhausted,” Merlin admitted, brushing something off of his hands on his skirt. “Where am I sleeping?” </p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur swallowed. Normally, he would’ve said something dismissive, but there was no place for that. Not now. “Damien’s cottage,” he said, looking at Merlin’s face for any reaction. “With me.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>There was a faint flicker of something on Merlin's that Arthur didn’t recognize. Something about the fact that he’d known Merlin for so long yet he still didn’t understand him completely didn't sit quite right with Arthur. “Since we’re… husband and wife,” he continued. “They said we could stay with them. Together.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Alright,” Merlin said, now deliberately avoiding eye contact as Arthur scrambled to find the reason. <em> Does he know how I’ve been looking at him? Is he disgusted? Is sleeping in the same cot as me really that terrible of a notion? </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Let’s go then.”</p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Damien opened the door to let them in. It was a simple cottage, with a fire in one corner and the bed in another. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Milly’s still tying up the goats outside,” He said, stepping out behind them. “You’ve been through a lot. We laid out a cot for you, go ahead and go to bed. We’ll be back soon.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Thank you,” Arthur said, looking over his shoulder to see Merlin following him. There was a small fire dancing in the hearth, considerably weak compared to the magical fires he was used to Merlin making. </p><p>
  
</p><p>There was a wide set of blankets laid out on the floor. Well, wide was an overstatement. For one person, they would be very big, but for two… it was a bit <em> snug.  </em>“How are you holding up?” Arthur asked, as a way to distract himself. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Merlin didn’t grant him that mercy. Instead, he moved closer into Arthur's space, fingers getting to work in undoing laces in rapid succession. The prince tried to look away as Merlin pulled his overcoat off, setting it in a rather neat folded stack at the head of the blankets. “Alright,” the brunet conceded after a long moment of silence. “Better than I thought I would, in this insidious thing.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur laughed, watching Merlin’s profile and the way his lips quirked up in the slightest. “Didn’t think you would be such a natural.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>Merlin rolled his eyes. “Really pushing it, Arthur.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>The prince just snorted in return, choosing to turn away from Merlin so that his heart wouldn’t pound right out of his chest. <em> Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm— </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“You said you’d rather die than share a bed with me,” Merlin said, an impish smile dancing on his face. “How is that working out for you, dear <em> husband </em>?” </p><p>
  
</p><p><em> Holy fuck. </em> The words shouldn’t have sounded that good coming out of Merlin’s mouth, but they did. Good <em> lord </em> they sounded absolutely <em> wonderful. </em>Arthur tried to deflect the question with a bark of a laugh, but it was becoming harder and harder to hide the blood rushing to his face. Unable to think of anything clever, he resorted to his fall-back: “Shut up, Merlin.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>He slipped under one side of the blanket, trying to retract in on himself so that he didn’t accidentally brush Merlin as he moved to do the same. Alas, it was an impossible task. It was a tiny blanket and the air outside of it was freezing, pressing in on them threateningly. “How do we do this?” Merlin asked, wrinkling his nose. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur was going to say something, but apparently his brain had been overdrive since the moment Merlin had put on that <em> stupid, glorious </em> dress, so he just stared at his manservant’s <em> dumb adorable idiotic </em>face instead of answering. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Hello?” Merlin said, raising an eyebrow. “Are you having premature heart palpitations?”</p><p>
  
</p><p>The answer, of course, was yes, but Arthur would rather die than tell Merlin the truth. “I’m tired, Merlin. Stop blabbering so we can go to bed.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“That’s <em> exactly </em>what I’m ‘blabbering’ about, so if you would just listen to me—"</p><p>
  
</p><p>At that moment, the heavy wooden door of the cottage creaked open again, letting in a gust of winter air along with Milly and Damien, making Merlin and Arthur go quiet and still, both lying on their sides and facing the fire. Arthur steadied his breathing, closing his eyes. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Look at them,” Milly said from behind them in an airy whisper. “Love struck darlings.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>The older couple shuffled about, eventually settling into bed themselves and putting out the candles. The fire still danced, getting weaker by the moment, as Arthur watched it over Merlin’s shoulder. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Milly and Damien’s breaths began to even out, and soon, so did Merlin’s. Arthur was the only one left awake, watching the shadows cast by the fire and the delicate fade from nearly black to hazel in the hair near Merlin's temples. In that moment, Arthur couldn't remember any of the daily worries that usually plagued him. Here, it was just him. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Him, and Merlin. </p><p>
  
</p><p>He tried to settle in to get some sleep. After all, they had more work ahead of them tomorrow if they were getting back to Camelot alive any time soon. But every time he tried to close his eyes, he wold find himself opening them again, feeling robbed of the sight of the man laying in front of him. <em> This is a once in a lifetime experience, </em>he told himself, trying to justify his actions. But at some point, denial seemed just a bit ridiculous. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Already doubting himself, Arthur scooted the slightest bit closer, holding his breath. He reached out, arm draping over Merlin’s waist. He put down the weight slowly, terrified of waking him up and being caught red-handed. <em> I just need the heat, </em> Arthur told himself. <em> It’s freezing.  </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Merlin made a soft noise under his breath, one that made Arthur’s heart simultaneously stop and start anew. But, thank the gods above, he didn’t wake. Instead, his own arm came down to cradle Arthur’s fingers, reveling in the warmth. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Arthur tried his best to keep the dorky smile off of his face, but it was impossible. With the outline of Merlin right there under his hands, Arthur could finally close his eyes without searching for his manservant every moment. <em> It’s for the heat, </em> he told himself again. <em> Nobody would think it suspicious if we just… ended up like this while sleeping in the same cot. It’s perfectly natural.  </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Completely content to never explore the root of his actions and feeling, Arthur finally dozed off, holding Merlin close to his chest. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hi you guys i'm surprised you stuck around and got to the bottom i'm proud of you </p><p>as I said before, I have no idea what the hell this is and I lowkey,,, wanna die realizing that I'm actually posting this hahaha I got so into it that I'm nearly done with chapter two, but idk I'm like ashamed if this doesn't go over too well I might just delete this tbh </p><p>if you guys are interested in seeing more of this let me know otherwise i might just let this die as a oneshot if I keep it up on ao3 at all </p><p>can you tell i have no self confidence? i can't tell at all i'm great at denial and lying to myself &lt;3</p><p>as usual this was edited and written entirely at the witching hour, so constructive criticism is welcome and i love reading comments because they feed me and make me feel validated, and isn't that all humans want anyways? </p><p>alrighty i'm going to stop now byebye lovelies &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. the author is enjoying this far too much</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>the stupidity continues in a thrilling saga</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi guys!!! i gotta say, i rlly didn't think i would be continuing this or even keeping it up on my profile, so it's all thanks to yalls support and kind words that i got the confidence to continue :) i hope you enjoy this chapter!! again, all written at witching hour so i have little to no memory of what i wrote but i hope it's enjoyable anyways!!!! see you at the bottom :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Merlin woke up the next morning, he felt a weight pressing down on him, keeping his breathing shallow. He groaned into his arm, still groggy and barely conscious. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What’s going on? </span>
  </em>
  <span>His fingers were… </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin’s eyes snapped open. His fingers were currently intertwined with those of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Prince of Camelot</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Arthur’s (very large) arm was draped across his waist, trapping him in warmth and holding him in place. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>he should’ve tried harder to not fall asleep the night before, but the exhaustion from the past few days had begun to set in, especially in a village so like his childhood one, lying on the floor with the comforting familiar presence of Arthur almost grazing his back… Merlin had slept better than he had in years. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The warlock risked a glance over his shoulder to see that Damien and Milly weren’t up yet, and thankfully, neither was Arthur. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If I could just slip away… </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Apparently, it was easier said that done. Merlin’s legs were tangled up in the excessive fabric of his dress (he’d completely forgotten he was wearing that), giving him little-to-no leverage as he tried to scoot himself out of Arthur’s hold. Cursing under his breath, Merlin tried to instead lift up the prince’s arm and get out that way, but he should’ve known better than to underestimate the vice grip of the greatest warrior in the land. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck me. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as Merlin gave a substantially harder tug, Arthur only drew him closer, mumbling something under his breath in a husky voice that </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>something to poor Merlin. The brunet could feel Arthur’s strong abdominal muscles pressing into his back, the twitch of his shoulder from the arm trapping him, the throbbing veins in his feet where their legs tangled--</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heat was rising to Merlin’s face as he tried to dismiss all the ideas that he knew were absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>treasonous. </span>
  </em>
  <span>How nice would it be, to wake up like this every morning? To be all wrapped up in warmth? Something about the situation, something about being the master of so much intricate, ancient power, and being rendered small and trapped by a large, muscular arm and a mass of skirts set something off deep inside Merlin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logically, he knew he could escape from this lovely cage if he had to. He knew he </span>
  <em>
    <span>could. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But he didn’t. Instead, Merlin lay there, trying to control his breathing and purge all less-than-godly thoughts from his mind. </span>
  <span>It was at that moment that Merlin felt a muscle in Arthur’s arm twitch. The warlock went deadly still, trying his best to look like he was sleeping like a rock. He heard Arthur groan behind him, warm breath drifting over the back of Merlin’s neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He fought the urge to shiver. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur, unlike Merlin had expected, didn’t audibly freak out at the position he must’ve noticed they were in by this point. Instead, the prince’s arm went rigid as well, pulling away carefully so that we wouldn’t wake Merlin up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thank god, that’s the end of it, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Merlin thought, breathing coming more easily now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I did not want to have that conversation. Now we can both just pretend that it never happened. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>But apparently, that wasn’t the end of it. Merlin sucked in a breath when he felt Arthur’s hand touch his head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Do I move? Do I keep pretending I’m asleep? Do I act like I just woke up?? Fuck, fuck-- </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hand was broad and calloused, brushing back Merlin’s bangs and up to the top of his head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck, that feels good. </span>
  </em>
  <span>If he didn’t try to reason out what was happening, Merlin could just lose himself in the delicate touch, pretending as though nothing was out of the ordinary. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin bit his tongue, just in case he let out an embarrassing noise. Not that he was going to, of course. Just in case. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur’s hand shifted, but Merlin couldn’t tell what he was doing. The feeling of Arthur’s fingers in his hair was suddenly absent, and Merlin missed it dearly. Once again, the warlock held his breath as Arthur moved, apparently getting up and leaving him there in the mess of blankets. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Where is he going? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were soft creaks in the wooden floor as Arthur got up, tying his boots. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It should take him far longer than that, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Merlin thought, trying his hardest to not look over to see how haphazardly they were tied. A few rough footsteps later, the door to the cottage opened, letting in a soft gust of winter morning wind along with newborn sun rays. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the door finally shut behind Arthur, Merlin let out a breath, slumping bonelessly onto the floor. His mind was whirring, but somehow, there wasn’t a single discernible thought in his head at the moment. Thoroughly confused and at a loss for where to go from there, Merlin sat up, fingers curling in the numerous layers of cloth crowding over his legs. Absentmindedly, he reached up to his head, fingers gingerly tracing where Arthur’s fingers had. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He was fixing the scarf, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he realized at once. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So he wasn’t just… touching my hair. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Merlin has to bite back an incredulous laugh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why would he just touch my hair? Of course he was fixing the scarf. It’s for the facade, it’s nothing personal. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Telling himself that should have made Merlin feel better, but instead, produced a weird, disappointed knot in the pit of his stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What am I feeling so mopey about? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Merlin sighed, finally resolving to get up, folding the blankets and stacking them aside as he did so. </span>
  <em>
    <span>After all, I should be thankful for having a loyal friend. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Just a friend. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur was standing on the outskirts of the village, staring into the woods where the sun was rising from, deep in thought, when he heard footsteps coming up behind him. Having been trained to fight since birth like the edgy little bitch he was, he recognized the footsteps and realized that they weren’t a threat. Especially in a dress. (Okay, he <em>technically</em> knew that Merlin was a sorcerer and if the way he saved Arthur’s life on a regular basis was any indication, he was probably pretty dangerous if he wanted to be— but </span>
  <em>
    <span>come on. </span>
  </em>
  <span>This was the idiot that fell on his face twice in the span of one hour!) </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>So instead of turning around and immediately dropping into a battle stance, he continued to stare out in front of him, offering a simple, “Sleeping in again, Merlin?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin rolled his eyes, stepping up to stand next to his prince. “What are you doing out here? You look like a damsel waiting for her lover to come back from war.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur wrinkles his nose. “What about this situation inspired </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>poetry in you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His servant laughed, crossing his arms over his chest to warm them up. “Oh, I don’t know. Your wistfulness, your overdramatic posturing, or perhaps maybe your… disheveled state.” He gesticulated to Arthur in general, smiling that same wide smile that he’d smiled the first day they’d met. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur followed his gaze, Taking in his own shirt half tucked into his belt, his trouser legs spilling out of the tops of his hastily tied boots, and the hood of his cloak lopsided and nearly inside out. It wasn’t like Arthur </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>dress himself properly. It was just that… well, he didn’t want to, and that was that. “Now, who’s really responsible for my disheveled state?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” The brunet replied. “You’re responsible.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Arthur said, furrowing his brow. “Last I checked, Merlin, I paid someone to do this particular task for me. Do you remember whose pocket those wages were going into?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin huffed. “What, do you want me to sit out here and undress and redress you? Oh, even better, how about in front of Damien and Milly? I’m sure they would enjoy the show.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hot damn. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Something about the image of Merlin undressing Arthur with the same reverence that he usually helped put clothes </span>
  <em>
    <span>on </span>
  </em>
  <span>nearly made Arthur’s brain switch off immediately. Trying his best to remain composed, he rolled his eyes in turn. “Fine, Merlin. Seems you’re looking for more and more creative ways to get out of your work every day.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s really my pleasure, sire.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The prince squinted at Merlin, sizing him up for a moment. “You don’t need to undress me to fix my boots, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin blinked. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fix my boot laces, Merlin. We don’t have all day,” Arthur dragged a hand down his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it really that important?” Merlin whined, even as he squatted down, his cloak billowing around him in the ground. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You just want me to stumble around everywhere like you,” Arthur said, words falling from his lips without thought. He had… far more </span>
  <em>
    <span>important </span>
  </em>
  <span>things to focus his attention on. So much more important that when Merlin responded with a curt, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“How did you know, sire?”</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Arthur didn’t even give him the satisfaction of a chuckle. Important things like how shiny Merlin’s hair looked in the virgin sunlight. Or how rosy and alive Merlin looked when surrounded by snow. Or how his eyelashes were unfairly long, fanning out over his cheeks. <em>Or how beautiful Merlin looked on his knees. </em></span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin, completely unaware of the thoughts floating through Arthur’s mind, got up after finishing the job, dusting himself off. “The day is starting, we should get back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh… yes.” Arthur managed, clearing his throat and hoping he wasn’t conspicuous in his desire to push Merlin back down and rake his fingers through his delightfully dark hair like a savage. “Let’s.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The day was simultaneously busy and dull, much like many of the days that Merlin recalled from his childhood in Ealdor. There was always so much to be done— livestock to be fed and watered, firewood to be fetched, cottages and mills and fences and furniture to fix, meals to prepare, fields to tend to, hunting to be done— the list was endless. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately, with Merlin’s new persona as a woman, a lot of the chores he was used to were now off limits to him. So, instead of making himself properly useful, he was stuck bouncing infants in his lap, boiling oats, and cleaning floors. To be completely fair, Merlin </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>in the business of being a professional domestic as his full time job, so it wasn’t like he wasn’t good at it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, except the babies bit— Merlin never knew quite what he needed to do with them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a cursory meal as “lunch” that left him feeling starving, Merlin dug through the waste barrels in the back of Milly’s cottage, picking out the scraps to feed to the pair of pigs that were rolling around in the sty to the north of the house. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Armed with food, the warlock clambered over the fence of the pen, dropping it in and grabbing a rake off the side of the house to get to mucking the enclosure out. It was nasty work, and somehow, it was worse than mucking out Arthur’s horses. As much as he hated it, at least the horses were somewhat dignified and still as Merlin cleaned up after them. The pigs, on the other hand, were relentless, rolling in their own filth and undoing Merlin’s work time and time again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took him at least an hour, despite the fact that it was a relatively small area. “You’re fast,” Dorothy remarked, walking past with a basket on her hip. “Why don’t you water them and then take a break?” Merlin nodded wordlessly, breath coming out in puffs in the cold winter air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The path to the well lead down to the outskirts of town near the fringes of the forest, where the cottages were spaced out and barely touching. The old well, which had been at the center of the town, had apparently dried up, adding to the recent hardships plaguing them. By a stroke of luck, they had found another underground reservoir around the outskirts. </span>
  <span>As happy as Merlin was for them, he was exhausted-- he really didn’t want to be walking such a long distance in the winter in the measly layers he managed to bundle himself up in. The snow on the paths in the center of the village had been flattened and dirty, but out here, it was still apparent in fluffy, thick layers, save for the singular line of overlapping footsteps leading to the well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mumbling his annoyance under his breath, Merlin placed the bucket on the ground next to the mossy bricks of the well, wrapping the well-bucket’s rope around his palm. He leaned over the wall to look down at the water, surprised to find that it was actually very close surface level, reflecting the woods and the sky. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes caught his own reflection, pausing and searching. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Damn, I don’t look half bad</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Merlin stared at himself, realizing he looked somewhat like his mother. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If it wasn’t for how insufferable Arthur and the knights are, I wouldn’t actually mind this, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he decided. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The dress is strangely comfortable. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merlin?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The brunet sprung away from the water as if slapped, heart jumping through his throat. He whirled around to find the very insufferable prince he had just been thinking of walking up to him, with his perfectly tied up boots (thanks to Merlin) and stupid handsome face (which Merlin was thankful for). </span>
  <em>
    <span>If he ever got any inkling of what just went through my mind, I’m going to literally drown myself in that well. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Merlin,” Arthur said, coming to stand in front of his servant with a teasing expression. “Do you need my protection, O Damsel in Distress?” Merlin glared at him, deciding not to dignify him with a response as he turned away, resuming his earlier task of filling his bucket with water. “What, you’re giving me the silent treatment now?” Arthur’s tone sounded nearly like a childish whine. “You’re not allowed to do that. I’m the prince, you know.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don't you shout it a little bit louder so that everyone can hear, sire?” Merlin mumbled. “There is no doubt as to whose loins conceived you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur made an expression of disgust. “That’s probably treason.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Thinking about the king’s loins?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Among other things.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a long moment of silence as Merlin continued about his task, unwilling to talk further about Uther or his dick. There were some things that just didn’t need to be discussed or imagined. Ever. Arthur leaned back onto the wall of the well, elbows anchored on the mossy masonry and head tilted up towards the sky. The snow around them made everything that wasn’t white seem brighter and luminescent, and Arthur’s hair was no exception, burning gold against the blank backdrop. It made it impossible for Merlin to tear his eyes away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting there, staring unblinkingly and taking in the prince’s profile, breathless. In fact, he hasn’t even realized that he was doing it until Arthur looked away from the sky, turning to make direct eye contact with Merlin and startling him out of his skin. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Merlin blurted our, fingers scrambling for purchase on the rope so he could tug up the bucket that he’d been letting swing from the rope idly for far too long. “Why are you here anyways? To make fun of me, perhaps?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why would I walk all the way out here just to make fun of you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t underestimate your devotion to that particular endeavor,” the brunet quipped, pursing his lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Believe it or not, my life doesn’t revolve around you, Merlin,” Arthur said (lying right through his teeth). </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It sure revolves around making my life a living hell,” Merlin grumbled, and Arthur had to study his servant’s face and make sure it was intended as a joke before he allowed himself to laugh. “I bet the knights have been having the time of their lives. Gwaine probably doesn’t talk about anything else, does he?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur looked away, lips pressed together in a thin line. That silence was enough of an answer in and of itself.  </span>
  <span>Merlin, having filled up his bucket, sighed and shook his head, stepping away from the well. “Thought as much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The prince pushed himself upright, moving a step closer to Merlin. “I know I gave my word. I’ll start holding them to it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hoisting the full bucket up onto his hip, Merlin laughed dryly. “It’s alright, I’m not a wimp. I’ve dealt with worse.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A particularly dark expression crossed Arthur's face that Merlin couldn’t quite read. “I promised you,” he insisted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really, Arthur, don’t worry about it.” Merlin turned away, starting the trek up the treacherous path back the center of the village, doing his best to step past the icy patches and particularly sharp rocks that poked through his boots and caught on the hem of his dress. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merlin, wait—" the prince reached out to grab Merlin’s free arm, trying to turn him back around to face him. Unfortunately, in doing so, he forgot that his manservant was currently carrying a very heavy pail of water, along with the fact that Merlin had proven to everyone in Camelot that he couldn’t walk a straight line absolutely sober if his life depended on it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin, clearly surprised and as clumsy as usual, tripped over the hem of his dress, stumbling backwards and slipping on the gravelly ice underfoot. The bucket he was holding against his side slipped from his grip, and Arthur pointedly pretended not to notice as Merlin’s eyes flashed gold, enabling the bucket to land squarely on its base instead of spilling all over the ground. Relieved, Arthur looked up to Merlin to find that the idiot, having been overly invested in saving a bucket of water, had forgotten to instead save himself from a nasty spill. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>On some fairy-tale prince reflex, Arthur yanked the arm he’d grabbed closer to his chest, reaching out with the other to keep Merlin from falling completely backwards. It was an absolute struggle to stay upright, with a series of unstable steps between the two of them that resembled a newborn colt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you do that for, clotpole?” Merlin hissed, face flushed and sinfully close to Arthur’s. “You nearly killed me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t nearly kill you, I saved you from your own idiocy,” Arthur argues back, his breath fogging up the space between them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>idiocy, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>yours</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t call your prince an idiot!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin made a face. “Well, I can call my apparent </span>
  <em>
    <span>husband </span>
  </em>
  <span>an idiot—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur gawked. Yesterday, hearing Merlin call him "husband" for the first time had nearly given him an aneurysm, but after spending a whole night daydreaming about it, he was considerably more prepared for the ambush. “If you’re going to play that card, technically even my <em>wife</em> couldn’t call me an idiot, I'm still the <em>prince </em>you kn—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can call </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone </span>
  </em>
  <span>an idiot if I want to, not even the Triple Goddess can stop me—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just </span>
  <em>
    <span>shut up </span>
  </em>
  <span>for once, Merlin! I—" Arthur sighed loudly. “I just wanted you to know I’ll make sure the others don’t keep ribbing you, alright? Let’s just leave it at that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin made a face, but then nodded. “Alright,” he said, voice almost a whisper. “I— thanks, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was that?” Arthur asked cheekily. “I couldn’t hear what you just said.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said let go of me, you ass,” Merlin said, pointedly avoiding eye contact as Arthur noticed for the first time that he hadn’t let Merlin go since he’d saved him from the fall. Arthur’s fingers were still wrapped around Merlin’s elbow, the other hand supporting him high up on his back. They were close, only half a foot apart. It made it difficult for Merlin to look at anything but Arthur’s stupid face, which wasn’t ideal in the least. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>In that moment, Merlin could almost see it— another life, as a wily village lass, falling into the arms of a haughty, soft-hearted village boy. A love story marked by trips to the fields and harvest markets and wildflowers and freshly baked bread. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Simple. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a second, Merlin thought he saw a reflection of that fantasy in Arthur’s eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s ridiculous. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Merlin stepped away and Arthur let his arms fall to his sides, not stopping him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m going insane. We’re just good friends. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But Merlin couldn’t explain why Arthur’s lips looked so magnetic in the moment, or why his hair looked so soft, or why his eyes looked like oceans he just wanted to drown in—</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin blinked rapidly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This faking being husband and wife thing is really getting into my head. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Utterly amazing.” Refusing to even give himself the temptation of making eye contact, Merlin leaned down to grab the bucket, turning away again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merlin?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The brunet risked a glance at Arthur’s face when there were a few moments of silence, to see that the prince was wearing a strange expression, lips pursed as if debating whether or not to say something. “Never mind,” he mumbled finally. “Let’s get back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The pigs have probably died of thirst by now,” Merlin said, focusing intently on his feet. "And it'll all be your fault." </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It would be nice if you showed this regard for time when it came to my breakfast,” Arthur said, pulling them back into the familiar territory of banter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good work takes time, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sire</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would hardly call your usual performance </span>
  <em>
    <span>good work</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You couldn’t live a day without me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merlin—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin laughed, ducking his head. A comfortable silence followed, throughout which he couldn’t bring himself to look in Arthur’s direction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few moments in, however, Arthur cleared his throat. “Give me the bucket.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Give me the bucket, Merlin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur made an exasperated expression. “I can’t be seen making a woman carry a heavy load while dilly-dallying idly with her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, what would I do without your chivalry?” Merlin laughed, handing over the bucket without complaint. He wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Arthur snorted, lifting the bucket with considerable ease as a result of his heavy physical training, making Merlin simultaneously envious and impressed. He tore his eyes away from how Arthur’s arm muscle had bulged under his tunic, instead observing the </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredibly</span>
  </em>
  <span> interesting patterns of straw roofs the cottages on the outskirts of the village boasted. “Why did you come out here, anyways?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because you’re here,” Arthur answered, seemingly without thinking. His jaw snapped shut, looking somewhat confused and embarrassed by his own answer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw,” Merlin cooed, teasingly. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>missed </span>
  </em>
  <span>me.” Something fluttered in his chest at the thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be ridiculous,” Arthur scoffed. “You’re always with me, why would I ever miss you?” Almost as if it was an afterthought, he added, “besides, it’s so much more peaceful when you’re not around.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You just missed the sound of my voice, I bet,” Merlin replied, the mere notion making him smile. “You always complain about me talking, but I know that you secretly can’t get enough of it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merlin, I’m very close to upending this bucket on your head.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look at them,” Elyan said, pausing in his hammering to look up at Arthur and Merlin passing. Arthur was lugging along a sloshing bucket filled with fresh water, but didn’t even seem to acknowledge the weight in the least. He seemed entirely absorbed in whatever petty squabbles he was having with Merlin, a permanent half-smile fixed on his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin, for his part, was absolutely making the dress work. He had the poise for it, somehow, and with rosy cheeks and a wide, taunting smile to match Arthur’s, the two of them made quite the duo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>At Elyan’s words, Lancelot looked up, following his gaze. “Well.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, those two?” John laughed. “They’re so smitten with each other.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aren’t they??” Gwaine said, sounding relieved, as if he honestly believed he was the only one to have had the thought thus far. “That’s what I keep saying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elyan sighed, watching them until they walked out of sight. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Everyone else can see it, I just wish that they could. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Night came even quicker this time around, if that was even possible. Arthur, despite his earlier expectations, had really been enjoying his time out here, where there were no princely expectations or fatherly disapproval or preconceptions and prophecies and assassination attempts. It was simple, peaceful, </span>
  <em>
    <span>invigorating. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When it got too dark to keep working, the villagers all retreated into their cottages. Arthur almost felt like he’d already become one of them. Absentmindedly laying a guiding hand on Merlin’s back, Arthur made his way to Damien’s and Milly’s cottage, eyes glued to the glittering chasm of skies above. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The cottage was empty when they arrived. Even the fire in the hearth hadn’t been started yet, casting the room in the cold blue light of the moon. “I’m exhausted,” Merlin sighed, shutting the door behind them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I had no idea that village work was so strenuous,” Arthur added, trying to stretch a muscle in his shoulder. “Maybe I should have the knights build fences instead of doing drills.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin laughed softly, eyes crinkling at the thought of the Knights of the Round struggling to herd livestock into enclosures, glorious scarlet capes getting caught in the dirt and manure. “That would be a sight to see.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur watched Merlin from the corner of his eye as the warlock picked up a stout candle standing up on the table pushed against the wall. He lifted it up, cupping his hand around the wick as his eyes glowed, lighting it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is he even trying to keep it a secret at this point? </span>
  </em>
  <span>The prince smiled, ducking his head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Really, he’s such an idiot. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The prince turned away, unfolding the blankets and kneeling to undo the laces on his boots. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s really got to be more careful about how open he is with it, especially since he’s around my father so much…  </span>
  </em>
  <span>Arthur heard a faint crackling as the wood in the fireplace finally lit, beginning to burn a yellow-orange and casting a warm light across the room. </span>
  <span>“You’re quiet,” he remarked, moving onto his second boot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Some of us had to do physical labor while undercover, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sire</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Merlin replied cheekily from somewhere behind Arthur. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because doing a woman’s labor is so difficult,” the blonde laughed in turn, shaking his head. He got up to put his boots up again the wall before returning to the cot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin scoffed. “In a </span>
  <em>
    <span>goddamn </span>
  </em>
  <span>dress, while terrified that someone’s gonna find out the truth, it’s a different story.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Really </span>
  </em>
  <span>Merlin—" Arthur had something sharp and witty to say, but whatever it had been, as soon as he turned around and saw Merlin, he was at an absolute loss for words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, dear lord. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Merlin had, as a result of his complete and utter lack of manners, gotten into the cot before the Prince of Camelot. He looked thoroughly exhausted, propping himself up by an elbow with his head hanging backwards, the hollows and sharp lines in his throat and jaw exposed by the yellow candlelight casting angular shadows across him. The dress nearly drooped off of one shoulder, exposing a sleek collarbone and an expanse of milky skin that Arthur rarely got a chance to see.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin looked at him, beautiful blue eyes confused. “What?” He asked slowly. “Is it the dress again?” When Arthur didn’t answer, he looked away, turning a little red. “I hate this stupid thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur swallowed, trying to find his voice. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Damnit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He took a breath, trying to move as an excuse for not replying. Still struggling to shut him mouth, he sank down to the floor, lifting the blankets and sliding into them as Merlin spoke again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” the brunet looked over at him again. “I know it’s hard for you but I was under the impression that you could at least carry a simple conversation.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“It suits you,” Arthur blurted out, lost somewhere deep inside his own mind that allowed the words to come out unobstructed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin blinked dumbly at him, jaw working in midair and mouthing </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The dress,” Arthur stressed. The words felt like heaving breaths taken after early drowning— they felt so good to say, but there was resistance crushing his chest, filling up his head, a distant fear—</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You gave your word nobody would make fun of me, Arthur,” Merlin was looking away, fingers curling defensively into the blanket and the dress pooled around his legs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not making fun of you,” the prince insisted. Apparently, he no longer had a filter of any kind— everything he was thinking was just spilling out. “I’m really not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin simply looked at him, eyes narrowed and lips pursed, a spitting image of Gaius’s disapproval. On the younger man, however, the expression looked more saddened and disappointed instead of intimidating, but somehow that made it worse. Arthur wished Merlin would say something, lashing out like he usually did, but right now, Arthur felt like he was fighting a one sided battle and losing. He missed his sparring partner, his equal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merlin—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The warlock turned, obviously intent on giving him the cold shoulder for the rest of the night, but Arthur wasn’t having it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merlin, listen—" he reached out to grab his manservant’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me go,” Merlin was twisting, trying to free himself from the prince’s powerful grip. “When things don’t go your way you just go for brute force, don’t you??” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur groaned. “For the Gods’ sakes, can you just shut up and listen for once?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen to what?!” Merlin wrinkled his nose, clearly annoyed. “The </span>
  <em>
    <span>broken promises </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the great future King of Camelot and—" </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something— </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>had come over Arthur. He wasn’t sure what. The pressing need for Merlin to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop talking </span>
  </em>
  <span>had been all-engulfing, and he had reacted entirely without thinking. So… at least he had shut Merlin up? </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Goddamn, his lips are so soft, has he really been a woman this whole time? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Arthur pondered the question as he pushed into the kiss, now balancing himself on his forearm as he held Merlin’s shoulder with the other hand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why didn’t I do this earlier? </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was perfect— </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>was perfect. The soft wetness of Merlin’s lips, the way his long eyelashes just barely fluttered against Arthur’s cheek, the way he smelled like the pine of the forest around them, the feeling of his blood flowing through his veins underneath Arthur’s very fingers— </span>
  <em>
    <span>Merlin was beautiful. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it couldn’t last forever. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur ran out of breath, breaking the kiss and pushing himself just far enough away that he could see Merlin’s face without going cross-eyed. The candlelight was made for this man— it made him look like an ethereal god of legend. It reflected off of the blood gathering in his cheeks and the flecks in his sky-colored eyes and the sheen of his lips. He looked like art, like a statue. In fact, Merlin looked absolutely shocked, barely breathing. If not for the tell-tale twitch he got in his left cheek when he was stressed, Arthur would’ve thought him dead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Against all his instincts, the prince did his best not to look away from Merlin’s face— for he knew if he did, he would most definitely end up looking at the rest of his body, which wouldn’t be the best situation for the… </span>
  <em>
    <span>tight </span>
  </em>
  <span>fit of his pants at the moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Much too late, Arthur realized a smile had crept onto his face, and as much as he tried and his cheeks ached, he couldn’t make it go away. A few more long seconds passed and Arthur hovered above his servant, barely blinking. Dread and reality slowly began to converge in his stomach as he searched the warlock’s face, panic rising. “Merlin?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door of the cottage eased open, sending Arthur into his automatic reflexes of </span>
  <em>
    <span>hide! Cover! Survive! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Damien and Milly walked in, blissfully unaware of what had been happening in their house right before they had unintentionally interrupted. Arthur, for his part, was doing his best to control his breathing as he lay on his side facing the fireplace and away from Merlin, who remained a conspicuous heat against his back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur wasn’t sure how long he laid there, unmoving and rigid, but by the time he wasn’t struggling to keep his breathing even, the candle had gone out and the fire was already dwindling. Damien’s soft snores were echoing through the room, but they didn’t give Arthur the same sense of domestic comfort from the day before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nails digging into his palms, with a smile and a sexual urge that had faded hours ago, Arthur stared unblinkingly into the darkness, realizing that Merlin had never kissed back. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i will apologize for nothing </p>
<p> </p>
<p>(i'm kidding plz don't hate me lol :P comments and kudos are much appreciated, i would love to hear what you guys think) bai &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. the author regrets absolutely nothing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The grand finale to our cross-dressing saga :)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hallo my lovelies :) </p>
<p>Sorry it took so long to write this chapter, I've had it written in my head ever since I started writing chapter one, so I was under the impression that this was complete, when in fact, it is not </p>
<p>should I be worried that the lines between reality and my vivid imagination are blurring to the point I can't trust my own memory???? ...mayhaps but oh well, if i wasn't a mess you guys wouldn't have this fic, so maybe this downward spiral is for the good of the fandom </p>
<p>i hope you enjoy this chapter, see you at the bottom :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Arthur wasn’t sure how he’d managed to fall asleep, as disturbed as he had been. A thousand different scenarios and excuses kept drifting through his mind. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry Merlin, I think I was sleepwalking. Sleepkissing. Yes, that,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>or “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I think I’m allergic to cottages. They make me a little loopy.”  </span>
  </em>
  <span>He prepared for the worst, that Merlin would just quit his job and walk out, but he simultaneously hoped the world would suddenly combust before morning so he would never have to face this mess he’d created. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Much to his chagrin, when Arthur awoke, the world was still there and dreadfully peaceful, birds chirping and sun beaming and all. On the other hand, Merlin was nowhere to be found. In fact, the cottage was completely empty except for Arthur, making him wonder for a moment if his wish for the world to end had wiped every other human off the planet instead of him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s so quiet. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In a fit of panic, Arthur got up immediately, messily rolling up the blankets and dressing in a frenzy. For all that he insisted to Merlin (</span>
  <em>
    <span>ugh! Don’t think about him!</span>
  </em>
  <span>) that he could dress himself, that was only really doable when he had copious amounts of time and patience for the dumb knots and ties of his attire. So, still looking somewhat like a mess, he stumbled out of the cottage to find the villagers going about their normal routines. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So they’re all still alive, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought, feeling silly for thinking even for a moment that the entirety of humanity had run out on him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Combing his hair back with one hand and doing his best not to look like he had completely lost his mind, Arthur shut the door behind him, tugging at his sleeves nervously as he looked around. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Where are the knights, for the gods' sake? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur wasn’t even sure who he was looking for. Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan were utter </span>
  <em>
    <span>heathens. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It would be impossible to talk to them about anything concerning Merlin, so the prince knew better than to try. That left Lancelot and Leon. Strangely, however, Arthur sometimes had a sneaking suspicion that Lancelot was far more loyal to Merlin than he was to Camelot. Of course, Arthur trusted Lancelot and his unfaltering moral compass entirely, just as fully as he trusted Merlin, but when it came to this… </span>
  <em>
    <span>issue… </span>
  </em>
  <span>discussing it with Merlin’s best friend might not be the best course of action. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe that’s why Merlin didn’t reciprocate? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Arthur thought for a moment, heart in his throat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Are him and Lancelot…?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur shook his head as if trying to dislodge the thought from his brain. He needed to talk to someone before he spontaneously combusted. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So Leon it was. </span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sire, you did </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Leon stared at his prince, an expression of awe and excitement gracing his face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow, it wasn’t what Arthur had been expecting to hear in the least. “I kissed him, Leon! I don’t know what came over me. There’s clearly something terribly wrong with me—" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no—" Leon protested, waving his hands wildly in the air. Arthur stepped back, put off by the amount of movement that he rarely witnessed the stoic Leon employ. Even as a child, Leon had been quite the polite and reserved boy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So what’s going on? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“There’s nothing wrong! You finally did something right, Arthur!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The prince raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Have you even listening to a single word I said?” He sighed, running his hands through his hair and looking over his shoulder again, though they were far enough away from the village that he wouldn’t have to worry about being eavesdropped on. “He doesn’t— he didn’t…<em> respond</em>.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Give him time, sire.” Leon grinned. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The knight looked twenty years younger somehow, even though he was barely into his twenties as it was. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe village life has been good for him? </span>
  </em>
  <span>But he’d seemed rather stressed out in the past few days, so what had changed now? </span>
  <em>
    <span>If anything, my problems should make him </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>more </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>stressed. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur snapped out of it, sighing loudly. “I can’t do this, Leon.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Believe in yourself, sire,” his knight replied sagely. “Wait it out. Everything will turn out fine.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With all his heart, Arthur hoped Leon was right.</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The morning was rather busy, thankfully. Arthur kept finding excuses to go off to far off places where he had no chance of running into Merlin. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, of course I can go get the firewood for every cottage on the block,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>and whatnot. The scheme worked, but it didn’t change the fact that their group was supposed to leave by noon, and as Merlin’s acting husband, he had to rejoin his troupe and somewhat acknowledge him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lancelot came over to him after trading whatever remained of their money for more blankets and food, looking rather concerned. “Sire, is something bothering you?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur looked over at him, managing a painful half-smile as he tightened his horse’s saddle. “Nothing at all,” he mumbled through gritted teeth, willing his mind to get rid of the images it had conjured up in the back of his mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lancelot and Merlin kissing in alcoves, Merlin bringing Lancelot flowers, Lancelot waking up in Merlin’s tiny little bed, Merlin wearing one of Lancelot’s ridiculous flowy shirts</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Arthur?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The prince blinked. “Lancelot,” he grit out. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>told </span>
  </em>
  <span>you. I’m completely fine.” The words were rather harsh with an edge that the poor knight probably wasn’t expecting to be on the receiving end of. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But instead of getting angry, confused, or even offended, Lancelot just raised his eyebrows, seeming all-knowing and almost amused. “Alright, sire,” he said, voice even. “I hope you are.” He walked off, without another word. Arthur watched him before turning to slam his head into his saddle. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did Leon tell him?! </span>
  </em>
  <span>He wondered immediately. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I told him not a word to anyone! </span>
  </em>
  <span>He stopped his abuse of his own forehead, head in his hands as he thought over the strange interaction. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Leon wouldn’t tell him, would he? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur stepped away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Even if he did, I treated him terribly. I can’t do that, it’s not Lancelot’s fault. Even if… even if… </span>
  </em>
  <span>he swallowed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t think too hard about it! </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He heard footsteps coming up from behind him. “Arthur,” Percival’s booming voice was echoing in the barren landscape. “We’re ready.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell everyone to mount, we’ll start off immediately,” Arthur said, turning around and squaring his shoulders. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m the Crown Prince! I can do this. I've been trained to kill since birth, how big of a challenge is this? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He saw his knights mounting and he hoisted himself up onto his own stallion, eyes pointedly downcast. Damien, John, and their wives had come out in front of their cottages, along with a couple of the other villagers they had spent the last few days with. They’d stopped their daily routines to say goodbye, faces wide with smiles and goodwill. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur looked up, smiling at them and trying his best to ignore the blaring presence of Merlin in his peripheral vision. “Your kindness has been monumental. We wish we could do more to thank you.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come visit again if you can,” John said, waving to them. “That fence buckles under the weight of the snow every winter.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And our pigs have never been happier,” Milly added with a laugh. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Elyan laughed. “We will make it a priority.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With that, Arthur and his knights (along with his pseudo-wife) left the village (after Gwaine gave tearful goodbyes to a few maidens). The snow, in just those few days, had relented, with the paths in the forest finally visible and game coming out of nests and hibernation once more. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They were still days away from Camelot, and Arthur dreaded every moment of it. Gwaine and Percival and Elyan wouldn’t stop jabbering, while Lancelot and Leon seemed to have taken on new personas. Leon, unlike at the beginning of this particular escapade, no longer seemed to be suffering from anxious breakdown. Instead, he seemed to be in high spirits, discussing everything and nothing with Lancelot cordially, absolutely beaming. Lancelot, on the other hand, was sporting a somewhat eternal smirk as he looked between Merlin and Arthur, almost as if he had been possessed by the spirit of a mute Gwaine. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Did Merlin tell Lancelot??! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Arthur was going to throw up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, god, please, no. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His hands tightened on the reins. They had only been riding for half a day without break (Arthur couldn’t trust his voice to call for one), but he had barely taken his eyes off of the path. </span>
  <span>But now, something compelled him. So Arthur risked it, turning and looking over his shoulder to Merlin riding a little further back than he usually did on these sorts of trips, drifting next to Lancelot instead of at Arthur’s side. </span>
  <span>He was still wearing that terrible, beautiful, cursed, gorgeous dress, not having had the chance to change since they had left the village. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Almost as if he had sensed Arthur’s gaze, Merlin turned to look at him, meeting his eyes with an unreadable expression. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur whirled back, heart racing and blood racing to his face. Trained to kill or not, apparently his training had been dreadfully lacking in the subject of dealing with pretty servant boys with magical golden eyes and sassy comments and quirky smiles dressed in women’s clothes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>God damnit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Directing </span>
  <span>his gaze forward again, Arthur bit the inside of his cheek, repeating Leon’s words over and over inside his head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Give him some time. Give him some time. Give him some time. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And if that doesn’t work, denial </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>is </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>my modus operandi. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Arthur’s </span>
    </em>
    <strike>
      <em>
        <span>Merlin</span>
      </em>
    </strike>
    <em>
      <span> Crisis Log </span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>It has been 11 days since our return to Camelot. The perfunctory conversation on Day Two is still the last major interaction that has happened since. If this goes on any longer, George will drive me mad. I will ban brass jokes from the kingdom when I become King. </span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur laid his quill down, running his hands through his hair and groaning loudly, trying to expel his frustration. Usually, he would want to go punch something, but George was always milling around outside of Arthur’s chambers, waiting to be called upon, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>didn’t want to talk to him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What kind of prince am I? Scared of my own servants. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He leaned back in his chair, staring up at the carvings in the ceiling, wondering what would happen if it just caved in and crushed him at that moment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>At least it would be an interesting instance in this dull existence of mine. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur hadn’t realized how pointless his life felt without Merlin hanging around. The day they had arrived back in Camelot, he had told Merlin he could officially take his two weeks off. Arthur has waited until Day Two to give Merlin his new clothes, hoping that Merlin might make the first move and ask for them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So Arthur just dropped them off himself, hoping to inspire more interaction and getting nothing more than a half-smile and a “thank you” and one measly near-treasonous comment (in comparison to the usual dozens that littered conversations with Merlin). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And since then, not a word. He hadn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen </span>
  </em>
  <span>Merlin. Part of it was his own attempts at avoidance, yes. He still trained with the knights, trying to get ready on his own so he wouldn't have to deal with George or another obsequious squire or servant, patching up his own wounds so that he wouldn't risk seeing Merlin at Gaius’s. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur hadn’t realized how much he would miss seeing Merlin beaming at him on the training field between rounds. Or how perfectly Merlin seemed to know his moods and needs (what clothes he wanted to wear without a word, how tightly to adjust his armor, what food Arthur felt like eating, what expression Arthur wore when he wanted a bath or when his chronic wrist pain was acting up or something a knight had said bothered him— the list just went on and on). Arthur especially hadn’t realized how much he would miss seeing Merlin in the flesh. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It seemed almost like he was having withdrawal symptoms. Every time he looked about, he would see Merlin’s eyes as twinkling stars in the sky, or the blush of his cheeks as the blooming pink roses in the gardens, or see his smiling face in his dreams at night. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Merlin had all but consumed Arthur’s life. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Accepting the fact that he, the great warrior and Crown Prince of Camelot, was to die of </span>
  <em>
    <span>lovesickness </span>
  </em>
  <span>of all things, Arthur banged his head on his writing desk, as was becoming his new hobby of the late. He found it did wonders for him (especially when he needed help forgetting that particular wet dream about Merlin as a peasant wife from Day Nine). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was so absorbed in his task of knocking around his brain that he didn’t even notice the door to his chambers easing open quietly, a feat that could only be accomplished by those who knew which hinges squeaked. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur’s breath caught when he recognized the breathing of the person standing before him (was that creepy? Perhaps it was, but could you blame him? They were practically attached at the hip). He paused his head-banging exercises, straightening up and looking towards the door to see the object of his worries standing there, back against the wood.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Merlin,” the prince mumbled, quiet as though he worried that speaking too loud would make this delicate vision dissipate. “Merlin?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Glad to see I haven’t been forgotten in a week and a half,” his impudent servant quipped with a small smile. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur wanted to respond with banter as he usually did, but his tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth and he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Instead he finally managed a “I guess not,” and continued to stare unapologetically at Merlin, who seemed to slowly be turning more and more red.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually, Arthur,” Merlin began, stepping forward. “I came because. I wanted to talk about something.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For the first time, Arthur realized that Merlin was not in his usual attire. Or, at least, not that he could tell. Instead, Merlin was wearing a heavy blue cloak, wrapped tight around his shoulders and covering his clothes. Thrown over his shoulder was a pack that seemed to be ready for some sort of travel. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you— are you going somewhere?” The blonde looked over the warlock, trying to decode all these pieces that weren’t quite fitting together correctly. “Where? I can send a patrol, or—"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Arthur, Wait—"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it Ealdor? Or somewhere else? I’m sure we can at least spare a knight—"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Arthur</span>
  </em>
  <span>—"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But it’s Day Eleven, you know that, right? I only gave you fourteen days, so—"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Arthur!” Merlin’s voice was raised into nearly a yell. He dropped the pack he was holding on the ground stepping up to Arthur’s writing desk with a serious expression in his face. “Just </span>
  <em>
    <span>listen. </span>
  </em>
  <span>We really need to talk.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur paled as everything started to make sense. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, dear gods. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“No, Merlin, you can’t,” he said in a frenzy. “I don’t permit you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin stared at him. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The prince did not seem to notice his servant’s bewildered expression. “You can’t quit,” he said resolutely. “I’m the prince. I’ll make you stay.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>make </span>
  </em>
  <span>me do anything,” Merlin said, wrinkling his nose. “You ought to know that by now.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I can make you stay,” Arthur said, not even trying to sound like he wasn’t earnestly invested in imprisoning Merlin in the palace forever. For all that Arthur acted like he didn’t care in the least, he couldn’t let this happen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just listen for </span>
  <em>
    <span>one moment</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you utter </span>
  <em>
    <span>cabbagehead</span>
  </em>
  <span>—"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not another word out of you, Merlin!” Arthur sighed, throwing his hands up. “I know what this is about! And I’m sorry, okay? There, I said it. I don’t know what came over me. My brain just became all weird, it must have even the air there, I don’t know! So don’t leave just because— just because I accidentally… accidentally </span>
  <em>
    <span>kissed </span>
  </em>
  <span>you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was a long pause after the outburst. “Was it an accident?” Merlin’s voice was quiet, earnest. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur looked at him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>looked. Merlin’s eyes were uncertain, questioning. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They were walking a fine line. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Swallowing, Arthur asked, “Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>think it was an accident, Merlin?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Do you <strong>want</strong> it to be just an accident, Merlin? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin stared at him, jaw working. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur’s heart fell to his stomach. He looked towards the far wall, pretending to be interested in the woodworking when he really couldn’t find it in himself to meet Merlin’s eyes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alright. So that’s how it is. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I… understand if you want to leave.” Arthur’s voice was steely, detached. He wanted to be alone. “What I did was out of line. At least let me give you a severance and let one of the knights escort you. It’s the least I can do.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not that simple, Arthur,” Merlin tried, pursing his lips. “It’s not as black and white as you think.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think it is,” the prince looked pained. “I ruined our friendship.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you didn’t,” Merlin took a deep breath. “I did. Or I will.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“By leaving?” Arthur scoffed. “That’s because of what I did.” He finally found the courage to look Merlin in the face again. “Please, you don’t need to uproot your whole life because of this. You can keep your job with Gaius, I won’t bother you or anything.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t sound like yourself at all,” Merlin said, looking like he was on the border between crying and laughing. “I never thought I’d hear you admitting you cared.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What am I supposed to do?” Arthur asked, throwing his hands up in the air. “Let you leave?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps,” Merlin’s eyes drifted to the floor. “Honestly, you might even oust me yourself after I say what I need to say. Actually, just being ousted might be lucky on my part.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur just stare wordlessly. “What?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while, but I never knew how to bring it up,” Merlin sighed. “Lanc-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>a friend</span>
  </em>
  <span> said I should’ve told you years ago, but I was never brave enough.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Did he just almost say Lancelot? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Arthur’s heart dropped like a stone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is it more than a figment of my jealous imagination? Did Merlin feel uncomfortable because he’s already with Lancelot? Gods, have I been in love with a taken man? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“You’re going to run away and have a goat farm together, aren’t you?” Arthur muttered out loud, not even completely conscious of the fact that the words were loud enough for Merlin to hear. “So that’s why he kept looking at me like that.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Merlin was staring, trying to find what point of the conversation Arthur had used as a jumping point for this sudden declaration. “What are you talking about?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You and Lancelot,” Arthur sighed morosely. “You’re leaving with him, aren’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin looked at the prince, face screwed up in an incredulous expression. “What on </span>
  <em>
    <span>Earth</span>
  </em>
  <span>--” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s alright, Merlin,” Arthur said, waving him off and trying to get the words out before his throat constricted. “I understand. It’s really all my fault.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t ever just </span>
  <em>
    <span>listen </span>
  </em>
  <span>do you--” Merlin began, before getting cut off once more. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You have my blessing,” Arthur said, shaking fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to keep them steady. “I’m sure you’ll be very happy--” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was at that moment that Arthur nearly choked on his own tongue. Merlin, wearing a steely expression of frustration, had reached up to the collar of his cloak and pulled it loose, letting it flutter to a pool around his feet. Feet that, unlike usual, weren’t clad in clunky, worn boots. Not that Arthur could see, anyways. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Because they were covered by a long, silk dress. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Holy mother of god. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Arthur’s mouth went dry almost as quickly as his mind went blank, taking in the thick silk draped over Merlin’s lanky frame, the dark purple highlighting his pale skin and the blush rising in his cheeks. It was even better than Arthur could have ever imagined-- the dress from the village didn’t even hold a </span>
  <em>
    <span>candle </span>
  </em>
  <span>to this glorious piece of art. The stitching was clearly intricate, cinching in at Merlin’s waist and accentuating the lines of his neck and collarbones and willowy arms. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I will never be able to appreciate anyone else in a dress ever again.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Still reeling in shock, he looked up at Merlin’s face to see the servant looking at him defiantly with a hint of amusement. “Figures that would shut you up,” he said, and Arthur didn’t even have something to say in response.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Is this what warriors felt like when they dealt with Medusa? </span>
  </em>
  <span>The prince wondered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If Medusa turned people to stone by being sexy instead of scary. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Perhaps Merlin was much more of a threat that Arthur had initially surmised.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, now that you’re quiet, I guess I’ll just get this overwith.” Merlin took a deep breath, looking awkward now that he had the floor. His fingers keep pulling at the skirt of the dress nervously, as if he was regretting the outfit choice more and more with every passing moment. “Lancelot and I are just friends, nothing more. And we’re not running away anywhere.” He paused and looked up to Arthur, and realizing he was still largely unresponsive, cleared his throat and continued. “And I won’t be running away at all. I just feel like I needed to talk to you before… before anything, and if you want me to leave, then I’ll go.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why would I want you to leave?” Arthur asked, finally regaining his voice. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The warlock looked up, eyes turbulent and hesitant. “Before I tell you, I… I want you to know that… I don’t think that kiss was an accident.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur heard those words for what they were-- <em>I</em></span>
  <em>
    <span> don’t want that kiss to be an accident. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Before he could even process what had happened fully, he found himself taking long strides across the room, and in a matter of seconds, he had pinned Merlin up against the door of his chambers, the brunet’s back bouncing off of the wood at the amount of force that Arthur had used. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin smelled like herbs and the forest, and Arthur couldn’t resist. He leaned in to kiss him again, one hand tangling in the unfairly soft brown hair and the other dipping down to rub soft circles into the silk around that </span>
  <em>
    <span>maddeningly </span>
  </em>
  <span>tiny waist. Arthur could feel Merlin melting into his touch, a small moan pressing against his lips, his pulse thundering under Arthur’s fingers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then Merlin pushed him away. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait,” he said, voice coming out as a gasp. The brunet’s hands stayed anchored on Arthur’s shirt, as if trying to anchor him in place. “Before… I said, before anything happens, I have to tell you something.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur looked at him with clarity for the first time. All of the minutia and conspiracy theories that he had conjured to worry about were all but gone. Merlin was </span>
  <em>
    <span>right there </span>
  </em>
  <span>in front of him, looking charmingly debauched with the dress sliding off of one of his shoulders and hair tousled and lips glistening red. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What are we waiting for? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Impatience rising in his chest, Arthur closed in again, caging Merlin into the door and resting his chin in the crook of his neck. “Merlin,” he said, voice low. “Please, shut up.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But--” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur leaned back just far enough that he could look Merlin in the eye, grabbing his chin. “If this is about the magic thing Merlin, just save it, alright? I’m in no mood for conversation right now.” Merlin gaped at him, eyes going so wide that Arthur worried momentarily that they would fall out of his head. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?!” the brunet’s voice came out as a squeak. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oi, you better not pass out on me,” Arthur grumbled, stepping back just a bit to give Merlin some breathing space. “I’m never going to forgive you if you faint right now.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin still looked to be at a complete loss for words, blinking slowly and struggling to breathe. Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed, pulling Merlin towards him so their chests were flush against each other. “Why don’t we save this talk for later?” he asked, pushing a lock of hair behind the warlock’s ear. “Because you look like a wet dream right now and if you can’t tell, I’m hard as hell.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Color seemed to return to Merlin’s face for the first time, eyes darting down as he registered Arthur’s warmth pressed up against him for the first time. He shivered, finally brave enough to reach up and thread his own fingers through Arthur’s golden hair. “You knew this whole time?” he whispered, affection seeping into his tone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose there isn’t anything I don’t know about you, Merlin,” Arthur replied with a cheeky smile, sliding a hand down to squeeze Merlin’s arse. He laughed when the brunet jumped and half-glared at him in response. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How long have I been wanting to do that? Years? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Slow down,” Merlin sighed, slipping his hands under Arthur’s shirt and running his fingers up the lean muscle. “You’re so impatient.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Believe me,” Arthur said, his breath warm and fogging up the air between their faces. “I intend to take my time.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This time, their kiss was much less frenzied. They were slow and heavy, Arthur taking the opportunity to walk Merlin over to his bed, one hand struggling to undo the laces down the back of the dress. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How in the Triple Goddess’ name did you get into that?” Arthur grumbled, breaking the kiss to shove Merlin onto the bed face-first. From behind, the brunet looked even more sinfully delicious. “Is this the challenge I have to pass?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Merlin said, grinning devilishly. “Only the one capable of undoing those insidious knots is worthy of fucking me.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It took Arthur a lot of self-control to not lose whatever composure he had left right in that moment. He swallowed audibly, pulling off his own shirt and leaning close to run his hands under the dress. “Or,” he began, voice husky. “Maybe I can fuck you <em>in</em> the dress.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Smartass,” Merlin laughed, but the rush of blood to his face (and another place) gave him away entirely. He twisted to loop his arms around Arthur’s neck, pressing warm kisses to the prince’s neck and leaving red marks in his wake. He looked up at Arthur through dark eyelashes, expression disarmingly soft. “I’m so glad you know the truth,” he said quietly. “How did you figure it out?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“As I always tell you, Merlin. Observation skills.” Arthur smiled, pulling his fingers through Merlin’s hair. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The warlock’s eyes fluttered closed, letting out a noise of contentment. “Thank the gods. I was dreading having to explain it to you. Especially the dragonlord bit.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I would imagine,” Arthur laughed, pushing Merlin’s dress up to his hips and realizing reality was much better than his raunchy fantasies. He was just about to cop a feel when he froze, eyes darting up to Merlin’s. “Wait-- dragon </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Arthur’s </span>
    </em>
    <strike><em><span>Merlin</span></em> <em><span>Crisis</span></em></strike>
    <em>
      <span> Merlin Log </span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Day Twelve. Morgana’s and Gwen’s wardrobes may be thoroughly raided in the future, though I have found Merlin in absolutely nothing is just as interesting… I would write more, but I must go. </span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>My wife’s calling.</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>you made it!!! i'm glad to see you guys are alive ahahah well i hope you enjoyed it!! this was a fun threeshot ride :D </p>
<p>just so you guys know, all the times that Lance and Leon were off talking amongst themselves, I was imagining the conversation to go something like this: </p>
<p>Lancelot: Leon, breathe </p>
<p>Leon: LANCE I cant they’re so FUCKING STUPID I mean,,, did you SEE THEY’RE— THEY’RE EYEFUCKING—- and I— I have to sit there and watch it happen and pretend it isn’t real and pretend they’re doing poetry when they should be doing eachother—- the sexual tension,, I’m gonna suffocate on it—</p>
<p>Lancelot, patting his back: that’s it, buddy, let it all out </p>
<p>but now Leon the Long Suffering is at peace :D</p>
<p>please leave a kudos or a comment if you enjoyed it! i especially love when people point out particular parts they liked, though even the simple comments are lovely as well :) as usual, if there are any glaring mistakes or you have constructive criticism, lemme know, because this chapter, like every one of my works, was written at (you guessed it) 2 am. :) </p>
<p>thank you guys so much for reading, and I hope i see you around in the future for another one of my merlin fics &lt;3 &lt;3</p>
<p>
  <strong>EDIT 7/4/2020: Please enjoy this artwork inspired by this work by ALPHAwolf! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR MAKING THIS MASTERPIECE I LOVE IT!!         https://alphaalnitak.tumblr.com/post/621947377106976768/gif-inspired-by-this-fic-by-leaootori-d</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Their profile can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALPHAwolf/pseuds/ALPHAwolf </strong>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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